


World, Shut Your Mouth

by mysteryroach



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: M/M, rating may go up as story progresses, so be nice, this is my first work for this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteryroach/pseuds/mysteryroach
Summary: Billy and Pete break up without realizing that they'd been going out. Title from a Julian Cope song because what's the point of writing Pete White if you can't shove some 80's music references in there?now also has an 8tracks playlist because i have to be like that about everything:world shut your mouth





	1. Beware of a Holy Whore

**Author's Note:**

> ok, so i've never written for this fandom before and it's been a long time since i really wrote anything significant at all, but i'm kind of surprised that not a whole lot has been done with this idea. i understand the first chapter is short as hell, shorter than i usually like, and the setup is contrived as FUCK but i just wanted to try something! i love these two, i love all the fic of these two, wanted to throw my hat in the ring too.
> 
> chapter title from a rainer werner fassbinder movie for literally no reason other than he was bisexual and dramatic and so am i and so are all of these jagoffs

It was Sunday at the Whalen house. Rose and the Action Man were having a day out, and Billy did the laundry while Pete was in their shared bedroom trying to set up an Xbox on a 10-inch TV from 1978. _It’s like being back at the trailer_ , Billy thought. He reached into the pocket of one of Pete’s jackets, knowing that he frequently left change, lighters, and the foil from cigarette packs in them. Billy pulled out a crumpled receipt that was about 3 feet long. _We always forget to use those coupons on the CVS receipts_ , Billy thought, so he decided to see if there was anything good. He happened to see that Pete had apparently purchased condoms and lube about a week ago.

“WHITE!” Billy’s voice echoed through the house. “GET IN HERE!”

Pete emerged a few minutes later. “Yeah, pally?” He leaned against the washing machine.

“White, listen,” Billy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know that you really want to keep doing this fake couple thing for my mom, but why the hell did you buy condoms? I don’t want my mom thinking about us doing that stuff! I don’t want to think about us doing that stuff!”

“Oh, uh, that stuff wasn’t for us, it was, uh...” Pete struggled for words.

Billy stared up at him, waiting for an answer. Pete ran a hand over his face.

“Okay, Billy, I really didn’t want you to know about this, but it was...I’ve been...with Rusty.”

“WHAT?!” Billy turned away from Pete and leaned his head against the wall.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Pete asked.

“How long?” Billy asked without turning around.

“What? Who cares, fella? You don’t own me! Like Klaus Nomi said!”

“Lesley Gore wrote that song, you...you jackass!”

“Well, Nomi perfected it,” Pete said.

“Just tell me,” Billy said. His voice was suddenly quiet. Pete reached over to touch his shoulder and Billy smacked his hand away.

“I don’t know, I mean...a few times back in the day, I guess, and since we moved up here, it’s been, I guess, kinda a regular thing. For a few months.”

“Jesus Christ!” Billy whispered under his breath. Then, a little louder, “I didn’t even know Rusty was _gay_.”

“Rusty? Hey! What about me?” Pete asked.

“Oh, come off it, White.”

“And he’s not gay, you know! And I don’t understand what the hell you’re so upset about. What, are you jealous? ‘Cause he’s your childhood hero?”

“Just get out.” Billy pointed towards the door.

“Pally?”

“Get out, get out, get out!” Billy yelled. He took a pile of Pete’s clothes from the washer and thrust them into his hands, still dripping wet.

“Oh, Billy...” Pete whispered. His lip quivered. “But Billy, your mom is making stroganoff tonight.”

“Just GO! You asshole, just go!” Billy began pushing Pete out of the house, until Pete finally tripped down the front stairs and Billy slammed the door behind him. Pete paused a minute, the pile of clothes dripping onto his shoes, and turned to knock on the door.

“Billy! Billy!” He yelled. The door didn’t open. “Billy, can I have a bag?” A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and Billy threw a reusable grocery bag onto the stoop.

“Oh, pally,” Pete sighed as he gathered everything up and walked down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be a happy ending, i promise!!!! also by law you need to imagine pete white dejectedly walking down the streets of new york while the instrumental version of "christmastime is here" plays.


	2. Natural's Not In It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title from the gang of four song

This is how Pete wished it had started: he was in the booth recording the White Room, got up to choose the next record, and a voice behind him said “hello, Pete.” Rusty was standing in the doorway, his hair a little less greasy in Pete’s fantasies, shirt open to the waist, taking his glasses off in preparation. Rusty would have cornered him so he fell back down into his chair. He’d kiss him and climb into his lap, his hand slowly going toward Pete’s shorts. “Here Come the Warm Jets” would have been playing. Pete had gone over that scenario in his mind throughout college. He jerked off to it for a few years afterward. The reality, as always, was less romantic. It was at the old Venture Compound, it was late, they were drunk, and Rusty offhandedly mentioned that it had been a long time.

“Pete,” he slurred, gesturing so that his hand slapped against Pete’s chest, “Pete, you’re gay, right?”

“What?! No!”

“Oh, bi, _whatever_ , I’m just saying, you’d help a Rusty out here, wouldn’t you?”

Pete drank the last of his beer, brushed his hair out of his face, and did what Rusty asked. No Brian Eno song playing in the background, if it was anything, it was a rerun of _Night Court_. He and Rusty wordlessly agreed not to talk about it afterward. He missed intimacy with another person. If he was honest, he knew that he’d never really had it. Every once in a while there had been an overzealous stage mom on the Quizboys set, but that just made him feel dirty. After those days were over, he would go to the compound when Rusty asked and blow him or get fucked by him and appreciate that someone was touching him. It wasn’t complicated.

In New York, proximity brought Pete back into the routine. Rusty was frustrated, Pete was there. It was the same story, just more often. He felt guilty, but as he rode the subway to VenTech, he told himself that he was doing nothing wrong, he was an adult, if Billy was that obsessed with his ideal of Rusty, that was Billy’s problem, not his. He smoked a cigarette outside of the building, still holding his bag of wet leggings and underwear. He turned as if to tell Billy he was ready to go inside and felt weird that he wasn’t there. He didn’t tell anyone that he was coming, he went down into the lab and laid down on the yellow couch. He didn’t look at anything, he didn’t think about anything. He fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, fumbling for a moment because he knew he’d been upset about something but couldn’t remember what it was. When he did, he tensed, then relaxed. Billy would get over it. When he got there in the morning, things would go back to normal. And if not, he could always do a memory wipe on him. It was fine.

Late that night, Pete figured that while he was there, he might as well hit up Rusty. He sent him his classic seduction text: “wyd?” He paused and added, “im already here”. Rusty gave him the go-ahead and he took the long elevator ride to the penthouse. _I never thought this would happen to me_ , he thought, as he always did when he pressed the “P” on the elevator, and chuckled at his own joke. He slipped inside, hoping no one would notice him, and slinked into Rusty’s bedroom, where Rusty was lying on the bed in his powder blue pajamas, hands behind his head.

“White, what are you doing here?” Rusty asked.

“What do you mean? You told me to come up.”

“Not that, I mean why were you here in the first place?”

“Oh,” Pete laughed uncomfortably, “You know, nothing major, just wanted to play some games on the big TV down in the lab. At Billy’s mom’s all they have are those old tube TVs with the wood paneling, you can’t do anything on one of those.”

“Uh-huh,” Rusty said as he took off his glasses.

Pete took off his jacket and shoes and laid them in a pile by the door as he walked toward the bed. Rusty unbuttoned his shirt and pulled Pete down by his shoulders.

“This is what you wish had happened in college, right?” Rusty whispered in Pete’s ear.

“Aw jeez, Rust, that was like 30 years ago, you don’t have to keep bringing it up.”

“It was a little ego boost for me, you know,” Rusty said. “I liked it.”

Pete started kissing his neck to shut him up. Rusty didn’t like kissing Pete on the lips. _Pretty Woman_ rules, he said. Once you kiss, it starts being gay. Having your dick in another guy’s mouth, telling him how good he feels when you’re fucking him, that was fine, but kissing was just a bridge too far for Rusty. Pete knew he didn’t mean it, his dad just really did a number on him growing up. And, after all, Pete was in denial too.

When they finished, Pete sneaked out the way he had come in, gathering his jacket and shoes, smoothing out his hair the best he could on the ride back down to the lab. He checked his phone. 7:00, Billy would probably be coming in soon. He was always trying to get Pete to get to work early, but they always wound up being late together. He hoped Billy bought breakfast, but he saw when Billy walked in that he had no such luck.

Billy looked like hell, unshaven, suit rumpled. Granted, Pete looked the same, but he knew what he’d been doing.

“Hey pally,” Pete said cautiously. “Ya doing all right?”

“Ugh, _yes_. Are you still fucking Rusty?” Billy was fuming as he put on his lab coat.

“Hey! That’s none of your business.” Pete crossed his arms and refused to get off the couch.

“White, it’s just that I live with a guy for twenty years, I think I know him, then this comes up.”

“But what’s the _problem_? I’m a grown man!”

“Hardly,” Billy said. “And it’s just...it’s gross! It’s weird!”

“What are you, a homophobe now?” Pete was shocked.

“No, I’m not a homophobe! But did you ever think for one _second_ that maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t have sex with our boss?”

“He’s not our boss, he’s my best friend!”

Billy slapped his forehead. “White, you moron.”

“You know, I don’t have to listen to this,” Pete said as he got up to leave.

“That’s right, just leave everything to me like always!”

Pete wanted to slam the door behind him but forgot that it was automatic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's still contrived and billy is being unreasonable but, well, that boy's in love.


	3. Eat Rotten Fruit From a Shitty Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy walks into a bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from mr. show

Jealous. Jealous. Of course Billy was jealous. He paced around the lab. Jealous that someone could look at Pete and see a sexual _option_. The words from 20 years earlier echoed in his head: “Us freaks have to stick together!” But that was rich. Pete didn’t need to act years younger than his actual age to be on television. His only sexual experience wasn’t an aborted threesome paid for by a supervillian. Pete was tall, he was handsome. He was exotic. His size didn’t make him a living joke well into adulthood. Billy had nothing. He couldn’t get an alternative haircut and own himself. He didn’t want to look at Pete. When he took his mind off work, all he could see was the bare expanse of Pete’s sickly pink skin. He couldn’t stand it.

He didn’t know what to tell his mother. When he got home, alone, she inevitably asked.

“Oh, honey, where’s Peter?”

“Still working on that project. He’ll probably be sleeping over there for a few nights.”

“Oh dear,” Rose said. “I hope that boy doesn’t work himself too hard.”

Billy had to laugh. He went into their room and flopped facedown on his bed. He didn’t bother to take off his shoes. He was angry and he wanted to let himself be angry. He couldn’t stop picturing it. He thought about Pete’s body, of hands on his bare thighs, lips on his shoulder, his voice panting out stock orgasmic phrases. It wasn’t about it being with Rusty. It was that someone could take pleasure from that body. He’d wanted to believe this whole time that he and Pete were together. Not _together_ together, he corrected himself, but that they were a team against the world. Instead he was alone. Billy knew that he couldn’t hold it against him really, but he’d wanted, or he’d wished...and he couldn’t allow himself to finish the thought. He sat up and cradled his head in his hands, feeling the cold metal against his forehead. Pete ruined his life. He knew the story at this point. Pete was holding him back, and Billy would have liked to see what Pete would be without him. Billy had real dreams and just allowed himself to get tossed around by some never-was loser. He sighed. This was his chance to let him go. If he thought Rusty was his best friend, let him see how far that gets him.

“I’m over it, forget it,” Billy said to himself. Then, “you’re being stupid. Stupid. Get over yourself.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Billy, honey, are you all right?”

“Yes, Mom! I’m fine!”

Rose walked in without knocking and Billy rolled his eyes. She sat down on the bed next to him and took him in her arms.

“Oh, my little water baby. I heard you grumbling, I wanted to make sure my baby boy was taking care of himself.”

“Mo-oooom, please!” He wriggled out of her grasp.

“You know, it’s so good to have you back again. I missed you so much. And I hope you know now that you can tell your mama anything, I’d never judge you. I love you. And Peter too.”

Billy sighed deeply. “I know, ma.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. He wiped it away, an exaggerated childish motion.

Rose got up to leave and before she shut the door she said, “Honey, don’t lose sight of the important things.”

“I won’t, ma. I love you.”

What he needed to do more than anything, he decided, was get good and fucking drunk. He ran a hand through his hair and put on his coat.

“Mom, I’m going out,” he called as he left.

“Don’t stay out too late!”

He promised, but it bothered him.

“Stay out too late, I’m 37 years old, I’ll sleep under an overpass if I want to, damn it,” he said to himself. It made him think of the early days with White. How they slept outside, Pete curled around him and the bike so that no one would steal it. How Billy felt Pete’s breath on his hair and was mortified by how he felt in a man’s arms. He’d pray he didn’t say anything embarrassing in his sleep or accidentally get an erection. He knew that Pete had meant nothing by holding him like that, it was to protect him and to keep warm, but the scenario wormed its way into his fantasies and he’d have to smack himself to keep those thoughts at bay. 20 years later, he walked down the streets of Brooklyn alone, hating himself for wishing that Pete was next to him, to protect him. Even when all Pete ever did was put him in danger and spend their money on garbage.

 _And abandon me_ , he thought.

He walked into a bar where he got carded before even walking in the door. The skinny, tattooed guy in a dumb hat still believed his ID was fake and he had to pull the guy down.

“Look at my face, okay?” He knew he had more lines and wrinkles every day. The guy finally believed him and let him through. It was trivia night and Billy smiled. Finally, something good. He signed up and sat at a table by himself. Some people gave him a pitying look, but he didn’t need some dead weight to win. He ordered the cheapest pitcher and settled in.

“Okay, how are we all doing tonight?” the host called out. He laid out the rules, no cheating, bring up your sheet at the end of each round, “don’t be a dick”. The questions were too easy, and thanks to the crowd, there was nothing about sports.

“Okay, which French Impressionist painter had a son who became famous for directing The Grand Illusion?”

 _Too easy_ , Billy thought. The questions flew by and he racked up the points.

“Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphries made up which pop duo?”

 _Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark_. Billy wrote it down, grumbling because it made him think of Pete. He downed his beer and stumbled up to the host.

After a not at all grueling final round, the host calculated the scores.

“And the winner is...the Quizboy!”

“Yes, I won!” Billy gloated as he marched up. “Suck it, everybody!”

He held his stupid gift card for the bar aloft like a sacred treasure. When he got back to his table, he ordered another pitcher and the waitress looked concerned but accepted it anyway. Some people came by to express congratulations, but nobody stayed. He was left watching the stragglers, men and women trying to hook up with each other. Another reminder of something he would never have. Nobody would even want to check him off their list of bizarre sexual conquests, and he would take that if it were what he could get. He felt good when his mother assumed Pete was his boyfriend because it meant that she thought he was normal. Of course, only his mother could think that anyone would be capable of looking at him and loving him. He groaned into his beer. Nobody noticed. The music switched over to “Gut Feeling” by Devo. Something else that reminded him of Pete. He remembered when things were still new between them and Pete would haul out his record collection and say “Wait, wait, listen to _this_ ,” and it was exciting to see him actually into something.

 _No, no_ , he thought. _You’re mad at him_. He tried to think about anything else.

_Got a gut FEELING! Feeling!_

He was probably with Rusty right now. He probably said “Oh, pally!” when he came. Billy grimaced at himself for even thinking about it.

 _It’s not about that_ , he told himself. It was about everything, this was just the final straw. He was drunk. His mother would be worried. He left a tip on the table and left, stumbling his way home. His mother and Rodney were asleep on the couch. He smiled. At least someone in his family was happy.

 

He didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning, but suffered through the subway ride anyway. Pete was asleep in the lab again. Billy didn’t wait for him to get up, just went to work. He would have been extra loud out of spite if he hadn’t been so hungover.

“Jeez, fella, you look like hell,” Pete said from behind him. He was still in his underwear and only bothered to put his leggings on under his lab coat.

“Shut up,” Billy said. “I have a lot of important work to do and I don’t need you hanging around screwing things up.”

“What the hell are you even talking about? Who do you think came up with the idea for a Venus fly trap that eats the polio virus?”

“I don’t even know where to begin telling you what’s stupid about that idea.”

“All right, all right.”

“White, you’d be nowhere without me. You’ve been leeching off me for twenty years, I’m tired of it! Go try and do something on your own, just try it!” Billy yelled through the throbbing in his head.

“All right, Berry Gordy, I’m leaving! Relax!”

He didn’t care where Pete went as long as it was away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok just consider two chapters in a row with the same ending a stylistic choice and not me being stupid


	4. Best Friend's Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pete listens to "blue monday"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from the pavement song

Pete took his lab coat off and threw it on the ground in front of the door. He wanted his jacket, but he just made a dramatic exit and needed to wait for Billy to leave before he went back. He wanted a cigarette, so he dejectedly put the lab coat back on and made his way to the roof. Billy didn’t respect him. That was what this came down to. Billy didn’t think he deserved anything without him, and the fact that he had something separate from him, even something this minor, drove him crazy.

 _Fine. Let’s see how he does without Pete White to boss around_.

Pete lit a cigarette, shivering against the cold. And what did Billy think this was? Pete was a man in his forties sleeping with another man who didn’t care about him just because he couldn’t do it in college. What was there to even be jealous of? Billy could really be stupid. Pete chuckled fondly.

 _God, you really can’t stay mad at him, can ya?_ _Idiot_.

He lit another cigarette and then wondered what the hell he was going to do. He started to panic. What if this was it? What if, finally, Billy really never wanted to see him again? He had to tell himself that that wouldn’t happen. Then he needed to get angry and say that all Billy ever did was yell at him and make him feel stupid and belittle his ideas. Granted, White thought, Billy was usually right, and he did ruin his life. Maybe he’d be better off. He just wasn’t so sure about himself. Without Billy he’d be nothing but a washed-up closet case game show host with a coke habit. Jesse Camp would take pity on him. The Surreal Life would have thrown his audition tape in the garbage. With Billy, at least he had a good job that he didn’t deserve and a best friend by his side (who he also didn’t deserve).

Pete pulled on his hair. He could admit he was a closet case but not just say that he was gay? And desperately in love with any man who was ever nice to him, including Billy?

It didn’t start that way, obviously. Billy was only sixteen when they met. He liked Billy and wanted to protect him, and he wanted a way out of his life, but all of the other stuff came later. About ten years in, he started looking at Billy differently. He was such a genius, and so passionate about everything all the time, and Pete just wanted to watch him go off on his tangents. Billy laughed at a joke and Pete was filled with so much love he didn’t know what to do with himself. Of course, he had to let it go. He couldn’t do anything that would cause him to lose Billy again, and having all the intimacy of marriage without sex was better than trying to take things to the next level and imploding. Whenever they could, they seemed to sleep in the same bed and Pete didn’t test his luck by questioning it. He didn’t try to make a move. He’d just hold Billy in his sleep sometimes and feel lucky that he had anyone at all. Then Billy’s mother believed they were together and it was like the world playing the gentlest joke on Pete. Everything he wanted except for the acknowledgment that someone actually loved him.

“Just play along, it won’t kill you,” Billy had said. His whole life, just play along. Look where that got him. The cold was biting through his lab coat and he needed to go inside. He had no idea where to go next, so he went where he always did, straight to Rusty.

“Brock, it’s White, let me in,” he said into the intercom. The door unlocked and he shivered at the temperature difference inside. Somehow, like he suspected, Rusty was sitting at the bar drinking in the middle of the day instead of doing something important.

“White, why aren’t you working? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Rusty asked.

Of course, lab coats were designed with the expectation that the person wearing them would be fully clothed, so Pete had a bit of a plunging decolletage.

“Oh, Billy’s mad at me and threw me out and I kind of made a big exit so I couldn’t go back and get my clothes,” Pete chuckled.

“Ugh, okay,” Rusty fiddled with his watch and said, “Brock, can you give the man a shirt?”

“You give him a shirt,” Brock said on the other end.

“I only have dickeys!” Rusty protested.

A few seconds later, Brock threw an enormous black t-shirt at Pete, which he put on gratefully. It draped over him like a dress.

“Well, am I a pretty girl, ma?” he said to Rusty.

“Oh, shut up,” Rusty said. Brock was laughing as he left the room.

Rusty was drinking some unholy abomination and Pete went behind the bar, took a bottle of tequila and started drinking. Rusty raised an eyebrow at him.

“So what’s got Billy so worked up this time?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t even know,” Pete said, coughing after a gulp. “He found out about, well, ya know...”

“Found about about what?” Rusty asked. Pete didn’t want to say it out loud. Admitting it during the day felt like breaking the rules.

“You...you know,” he whined.

“What? What, are you doing a bit? Just say it!”

Pete leaned in and whispered, “us”.

“Oh, that. Well, so what?” Rusty leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t know, he’s jealous or freaked out or something.”

“Jealous about what? You think Billy wants to have sex with me?” Rusty realized how loud his voice had gotten and shrank into himself.

“Not _that_ , he’s just upset that he doesn’t control every aspect of my life.”

“He’ll get over it. That Billy’s a firecracker,” Rusty said.

“You sound like his mom,” Pete said. He couldn’t hide the fondness on his face. “Anyway, can I crash here a while?”

“Fine,” Rusty said as if it was a burden. “But you’d better get back to work soon, I’m not paying for whatever Cassavetes drama you have going on with Billy.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, Rust,” Pete said, leaning in flirtatiously.

“Later, White,” Rusty said. He looked around the room in a panic. Pete thought about the fact that the only person he’d had sex with in years was ashamed of the very idea of their sexual relationship. Rusty could be sweet, in a way. He wouldn’t kiss Pete on the mouth, but every once in a while he’d touch him in a way that betrayed at least some level of caring for him. Once, he kissed Pete between his shoulder blades right before he kicked him out of bed. Like it was the closest he could get to real intimacy before the ghost of Jonas Venture appeared in his mind to call him a sissy or worse. And Pete understood. It wasn’t even like he _wanted_ anything resembling a relationship with Rusty (not since college), he just had trouble living with the idea that he was nothing but a secret shame. Even if he was the one who put himself in that position. He and Rusty sat in a thick silence.

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s just--” Rusty began.

“I know,” Pete said.

 

It was easy to fall into bed again, despite the shame and guilt. Pete’s head between Rusty’s thighs, Rusty’s hands splayed on the mattress, telling Pete how good he was. Pete knew it was just about his skills giving head, but he pretended it meant he was worth something. Rusty groaned deep in his throat and pulled Pete off of him, cupping his face in his hands as he pulled him up. Pete laid down next to him and Rusty watched him jerk off. He wouldn’t touch him. Pete may have denied his sexuality publicly, but in private he was fearless, only as long as he could pretend it meant nothing. Rusty may have watched his friend, licking his lips like a wolf in an old Chuck Jones cartoon, but he needed to keep himself removed so that he could tell himself easier lies later. Pete finished and asked Rusty if he could take a shower. Rusty was in bed when he got back, and he sat down to go to sleep.

“Moving in?” Rusty asked.

“What? You said I could stay,” Pete whined.

“I didn’t know you meant, you know, _here_.”

“Please, Rusty.”

“Oh, fine. But you stay on your side of the bed, Mr. Man!” Rusty held out a scolding finger.

“Your dick was in my mouth like 20 minutes ago but sure, okay,” Pete said. He turned his back to Rusty and curled into himself. He and Billy would pretend that they were going to stay on separate sides of the bed, but somehow, they’d always find themselves entwined together. Pete was always freezing cold, and Billy would draw to him like a heater. It meant nothing, it was just their bodies regulating temperature perfectly together. Like Pete’s, Rusty’s body was bony and cold. During the night, Pete pulled him closer and woke up from the shock. He rolled back over and missed Billy terribly.

 

By Rusty’s request, the next night Pete moved to an unused guest room in the penthouse, and he holed himself inside. He really wanted to score some coke but held back and settled for strong weed instead, which covered the room in a haze. He blared music like a teenager. After a couple of days, there was a knock on the door and Brock walked in, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Hey White,” he yelled over the music. Pete paused it. “Yeah I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do that stuff in front of the boys, man.”

“What are you talking about, they’re adults!” Pete protested.

“Yeah, well uh, I still have some rules in this house so can you cut back?”

Pete coughed and nodded, then promptly took another hit as the door closed. He turned the music back up.

_How does it feel/to treat me like you do…_

There was a pounding on the wall.

“Mr. White, can you turn the music down?” Dean yelled.

“Can you at least change the song?” Hank asked. “You’ve been listening to that one for two days!”

The music stopped for a moment. Then--

 _PLEASE, PLEASE TELL ME NOW_.

Dean groaned loudly. He and Hank walked in the room without knocking. Pete struggled to hide his bong without spilling it.

“Uh...we can smell it,” Dean said.

“Hey, guys! What are you doing here?” Pete paused the music and prayed that his red, stoned eyes would mask the fact that he’d been crying.

“Well, I have an exam tomorrow,” Dean began.

“And I don’t like new wave,” Hank said.

“Fuckin’ kids don’t know anything these days.” Pete crossed his arms.

“And well, we were kind of wondering what was going on,” Dean said. “Like...where’s Dr. Whalen?”

“Oh, he’s mad at me because he found out about me and your dad—uh...” Pete didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Hank stroked his chin.

“Mr. White, are you dating Pop?” Hank asked.

“I’m not dating your dad!”

“Psh, yeah, I was gonna say,” Hank said.

“Gonna say what?” Pete asked.

“Well, uh, we just always thought that if Dad was going to go that way, it’d be, well,” Dean said.

“With Brock,” he and Hank said together.

“Brock? Oh please.” Pete huffed.

“I’m just sayin’,” Hank said.

“I thought you were with Dr. Whalen.” Dean said softly.

“Oh, come on.” Pete said. “You boys gotta get those stereotypes out of your head.”

“It’s not a stereotype!” Dean said. Hank quietly left the room and Dean sat on the bed. “It’s just that you live together and you’re always touching and I thought...”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Pete said.

“Is it because you’re afraid to tell Dr. Whalen how you really feel, because you feel like whatever you have with him is good as it is and it’d be like, selfish to try to go further and also you’re not sure he likes guys anyway?”

“Jeez, Dean, have you been reading my diary?” Pete put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Um, no. I was...talking about me.” Dean looked down.

“Well, I’m not getting involved with whatever you’ve got going on. But don’t be like me, kid. Don’t be so afraid of what you really feel that you act like a jackass to someone you care about and sleep with somebody who acts like he doesn’t even like you.”

“Ew, you’re talking about my dad, right?” Dean made a face.

“Yeah, sorry.” Pete said. “We were having a moment and I forgot.”

“Well, I think you should tell Dr. Whalen how you feel.”

“I think you should tell your guy how you feel,” Pete said. “And you’re not gonna, are ya?”

“Probably not.” Dean sighed.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He and Dean sat for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dean being into jared is def taken from better fan fics than this one but i can't get it out of my head! thanks y'all. also had an idea for this chapter of pete going to a gay bar and running into pi wai but couldn't quite figure out how to get there. but the idea is solid, damn it! also pete's breakup state of blasting the same song on repeat while doing bong rips is NOT taken from experience, how dare you


	5. Without You My Life Would Be Boring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from the song by the knife

After a week, Billy needed to tell his mother _something_. He couldn’t tell her, of course, that Pete was sleeping with someone else. In her mind, that would have been an unforgivable betrayal. And, though it felt like one to him too, he knew that it wasn’t. He knew that Pete didn’t owe fidelity to him. They weren’t a couple, regardless of how badly he’d wanted to be for years. He couldn’t bear the thought of Pete rejecting him or expressing disgust at his body. As things were now, Pete wasn’t afraid to touch him because those touches were meaningless. If he’d known what it meant to Billy all this time, he’d never come near him again.

At Sunday dinner, Billy was despondent and unshaven and told his mother, “We’re just spending some time apart right now and considering some things.”

“Ah, he’ll come back to ya, laddie!” Colonel Gentleman slapped Billy on the back. “Believe me, I know. A boy like that, he’ll get ideas in his head, but he knows that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him, and when he gets back, he’ll fuck your brains right out of your giant skull!”

Billy, Rodney, and Rose all stared at Colonel Gentleman with open mouths.

“What? It’s true! Prudes.”

“T-thanks, I guess.” Billy mumbled. His face turned bright red.

“Billy, that boy loves you and I know you love him. You take all the time you need.” Rose said, bringing the conversation to a level they could all work with.

“I really love him, I really love him,” Billy said, shaking his head in his hands.

“When ye need some poppers, just stop by my room, lad,” Colonel Gentleman nudged Billy.

“I’ll...think about it.”

Billy didn’t know what poppers did.

 

All this time, Billy knew he was unreasonable, but he couldn’t face Pete. He couldn’t say “I’m sorry”, because he knew everything else would come spilling out too. And, despite what he knew intellectually, that Pete was holding him back, he couldn’t bear the thought of life without him. The scene kept playing in his head. He’d tearfully confess that he was in love with Pete and had been since he was sixteen years old, and Pete would say “well, jeez, pally, I love ya too, but...you know, not that way.” And they’d sleep in separate beds and Pete might go off and find some man or woman who he could love and Billy would be left with his mother, wishing that a lie would come true. And maybe he’d frequent brothels and die of syphilis in a gutter like a genius from the 19th century if he was lucky. Or he’d just stare across at the empty space in his bed and go on living with nothing to live for. He hadn’t been this alone in twenty years. He needed to talk to Pete, but he was stubborn and proud and told himself that he needed to test whether Pete cared for him by letting him reach out first. He had no idea how long he could wait.

 

Before Billy met Pete, he had had crushes. He had a crush on the older brother of the girl who would babysit him after school. He had a crush on Ms. Peters, the coach of his high school quiz bowl team. And, once they’d met, he developed one on Pete White. He’d seen Quizboys before and didn’t give him much thought, but standing on the set with him was different. When he’d lean down to ask Billy empty questions for the camera, he thought his heart would explode. He knew he was being an annoying, shitty kid when he’d wait outside Pete’s dressing room door, but he just needed to see him. He wanted to know that they had something in common. He didn’t delude himself into thinking that Pete would be interested in him romantically, and he wouldn’t have known what to do if he had been, but just being near him was enough for Billy. And he never talked down to him or treated him like a little kid, even before he found out that Billy was sixteen and not twelve like he’d said. He was different from everybody else in Billy’s life. Whenever they were in the dressing room and Billy got excited, breathlessly babbling about his fan theories on _The Rusty Venture Show_ or some ‘70s disaster movie he’d just seen, Pete seemed like he was genuinely interested. He really listened. And Pete was so effortlessly cool. Billy had thought he was just jealous and wanted to be Pete until he’d had a dream about kissing him. And then thought about it when he was awake. When Pete took his wig off and told Billy that he was a freak too, he felt this powerful sense that the world was bringing them together, for whatever reason, and then Pete said those exact words. Things went south, as they generally did, and Pete begged Billy to understand that it was a mistake, he’d never hurt him, he cared about him. But Billy was heartbroken and he felt used, so he went off to go be used by people who didn’t even pretend to care about his safety. After that, he couldn’t remember, but he woke up in a trailer with Pete’s sunburnt hand stroking his hair, and that trailer was where he stayed. It never occurred to either of them to ever be apart. And now Billy really understood why. He hated Pete sometimes and they fought constantly, but he needed him.

 

Billy was in the lab, halfheartedly trying to figure out some bug in the code Pete had written two weeks before, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it. Computer stuff just bored him. He needed tools, he needed his hands on something. He leaned back in his chair when the figure of Brock Samson loomed over him.

“Billy, man, we need to talk.” Brock lit a cigarette as always and Billy was still too intimidated to ever ask him not to.

“About what?” Billy still pretended he was working. Brock spun his chair around.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you have got to go talk to White.”

“Why?” Billy scoffed.

“Because all he does all day is hang out in my house and get high and _freak us all out_. I’m gonna kill him if he doesn’t get the hell out soon.”

“What’s the matter, is he tired of being friends with benefits with Rusty yet?” Billy spat out.

“Doc’s sleeping with White?” Brock’s voice got softer and Billy couldn’t read the expression on his face before he changed it to one of cocky disinterest.

“Hard to believe, right?” Billy threw his arms out in indignation.

“I mean, I just always thought that if Doc was going to come out or whatever, he'd, you know, go for me. Not in a weird way,” Brock clarified.

“Sure,” Billy said. “Pretty conceited of you.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

“No, I guess not.”

“So what the hell is going on with you, Billy?” Brock sat down on the yellow couch and settled in.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Billy said. He crossed his arms across his chest.

“All right, fine,” Brock took a drag off his cigarette. “But you’re going to get White out of my house, I don’t care if I have to carry you.”

“Fine, fine! Keep your shirt on, Samson.” Billy followed Brock to the elevator. When they got to the penthouse, Billy could hear the muffled sounds of the Cure coming from somewhere in the apartment.

“See what I mean, Billy?” Brock said. “He’s been on the Cure for like, three days. Before that it was New Order and Joy Division. I can’t take this crap.”

“I know. And it’s _Disintegration_ too. That’s bad news.” Billy felt a sense of validation, but then reminded himself that Pete may have just been heartbroken because Rusty kicked him out of bed.

_But I don’t see/And I don’t feel/But tightly hold up silently/My hands before my fading eyes…_

Billy groaned when he reached the door. He knocked before he said “White, I’m coming in.”

Marijuana smoke stung his eyes when he opened the door. White looked feral, clad in threadbare boxers, doing a bong rip with tears running down his face. Billy stood in the doorway, waiting for Pete to look up. When he did, he shielded his eyes with his hand and whispered, “Billy?”

“Yeah, White, it’s me.” Billy walked in and hopped on the bed. He didn’t know what to say. Pete rested his head on top of Billy’s and cried. Billy hoped for some kind of romantic reunion but he just felt really uncomfortable. He grabbed Pete’s hand but still didn’t say anything. The album finished and the mood was broken by a Spotify ad. Pete jumped up and sniffled.

“Oh! Sorry,” he said before picking up his phone and starting the album over again. Billy smiled. Pete couldn’t escape his _Pump Up the Volume_ fantasies. And he was thankful, because it gave him something to focus on before he worked up the nerve to speak. Pete laid down and Billy got down with him, throwing Pete’s arm around himself and resting his head on his chest. It felt weird to do this when they were both awake and had no sort of plausible deniability to fall back on.

“Billy, I’m not sorry because I didn’t do anything wrong,” Pete began. “But I hurt you and I feel like I keep hurting you and I don’t know what to do about it.” Pete didn’t meet Billy’s eye.

“White, everything else, I forgive you for all of it.” Billy said.

“You do?” Pete sniffed.

“Yeah. I love what my life is with you. We have an archenemy! How cool is that? I never would have gotten that without you!”

Pete still didn’t look at him, but he smiled.

“And I guess I was just hurt by this because...well, because...” Billy didn’t know how to finish. He was still expecting that look of disgust. Pete rolled over and put a cool hand on Billy’s cheek. He pressed their foreheads together.

“Billy, I really love you.” Pete finally said. Billy’s chest tightened up so much that it hurt. He threw his arms around Pete’s neck. He was still too tense to speak and he hoped that Pete didn’t interpret the silence as a rejection.

“White,” he finally croaked out.

“Yeah, pally?”

“White...I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen years old.”

Pete looked surprised and Billy tensed even more, thinking that the rejection was coming.

“Oh. Well, it hasn’t been that long for me,” Pete said. “I mean, I wasn’t about to _Thorn Birds_ ya or something, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But oh my god, fella, I am so glad we are on the same page here.” Pete sat up.

“I know, right? Oh my god, I was so nervous! I was like, ‘what am I thinking?’!” Billy slapped his forehead with his metal hand and started laughing so that tears rolled down his cheeks. It felt like everything was leaving his body. Pete held him and started laughing too. They calmed down after a while and Pete pulled them apart and looked into Billy’s face.

“So you’ll have me back?” Pete asked.

Billy didn’t know how to respond so he brought Pete’s cheek to his. He was too anxious to kiss him.

“White, let’s go home,” Billy said into his ear. Pete nodded and began to get dressed. He kept looking over at Billy as he did, as though he was worried he’d disappear.

They put their hands in their pockets as they walked out of the apartment. Billy knew that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from holding Pete’s hand. Pete saw Dean on their way out and gave him a thumbs up. Dean smiled and gave one back.

On the subway, they kept looking at each other and looking away.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” Pete asked.

“I want you to take a shower because Jesus! You’re a mess without me,” Billy said.

“Yeah,” Pete shrugged. “I mean after that though, what do you want to do?”

“I have some ideas,” Billy said. He didn’t want to say them in public.

They reached the brownstone and Pete suffered through Rose fussing over his unkempt appearance, loving it all the same. She told him how happy she was to see him home, Rodney slapped him on the back to welcome him.

“Ah, what did I tell ye, laddie?” Colonel Gentleman said to Billy. “Lock your door tonight, boys.”

Billy and Pete walked upstairs and looked at each other.

“So I guess I’ll, um, take that shower now,” Pete said, slowly walking out of their shared room.

“Okay, good.” Billy said. He sat on the bed and took his shoes off.

“Hey, White!” Billy called, and Pete walked back into the doorway.

“Yeah, pally?”

“White, do you know what poppers are?” Billy asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i definitely got more comfortable writing as i went along and i'm pleased with it overall. hope you like it too!
> 
> also i'm bad at writing endings but like...you know what's gonna happen.


End file.
